


The Trouble

by Hay_Bails



Series: Death Note Drabbles [4]
Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Pre-Kira, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7536031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hay_Bails/pseuds/Hay_Bails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After A commits suicide, L feels guilty and flees Wammy's House. Near finds him, and takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’ hell,_  
_Planted by Satan’s dibble;_  
_Poor silly wretch, he’s damned himsel’,_  
_To save the Lord the trouble._

_-Robert Burns '478. Epigram on a Suicide'_

 

* * *

 

 

To: [quillsh@wammys.co.uk](mailto:quillsh@wammys.co.uk)

From: [n@wammys.co.uk](mailto:n@wammys.co.uk)

Subject: found him

 

Mr. Wammy,

 

I found L. He is fine – we are both safe, though he wishes for our location to remain undisclosed. I find myself inclined to agree with him. I trust that you will dispose of this email properly upon reading it.

           

A’s suicide affected L in a profound way. He won’t admit it, but I think he’s traumatized. I hope you will allow him ample time to recover. In the meantime, I will stay with him, and make sure he is safe and healthy.

 

We are staying at a hotel. I must take the liberty of asking you not to freeze L’s bank account. I am sure he has a contingency plan should his money run out, but it will be easier for him to know he has access to funds should he need them.

 

I am very sorry to have run away, but I’m sure you’ll understand upon reading this email that L’s well-being is far more important. I will send you regular status updates, and we will return when he feels he is able.

 

Regards,

 

Near

 

* * *

 

 

            The glass of the bus window was cool against L’s forehead. He closed his eyes, gripping the flimsy paper ticket tight in his right hand. The engine started. Vibrations pulsed through his skin and body. Voices reverberated around him. Somebody laughed.

            A small body crawled into the seat next to him.

            “How far are you trying to go?”

            L opened his eyes wearily. He knew that they were going to attempt to stop him. He had just hoped it would have taken a little longer than this. “Stay out of this, Near.”

            “No,” the child responded simply. “By the way, I wouldn’t try to kick me off the bus if I were you. The operator thinks I’m your younger brother.”

            “Of course he does.”

            “I told him you have my ticket.”

            “I don’t.”

            “I do.” The albino child produced a paper ticket, identical to L’s, from his pocket. He placed it on the older boy’s lap. The bus began to pull out of the station.

            “Fine,” L said resignedly. He leaned his head back against the window without moving to pick up the ticket.

            “So where is it?” Near asked, leaning back in his seat. “France? Germany? Russia?”

            “The ticket says Edinburgh, does it not?”

            “The L I know wouldn’t rely on just a bus. You’re going somewhere else.”

            L huffed, starting to get annoyed. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he muttered.

            “I would.”

            “Too bad. Figure it out when we get there.”

            “Fine by me.” Near settled in, pulling a pair of action figures from the fold of his pocket. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, pulling a third item out of his pocket. It was a granola bar. “This is for you.”

            L looked at it. “I’m not hungry,” he whispered.

            “I know. Take it anyway.” Near set it onto the older boy’s lap, next to the bus ticket. “You don’t have to eat it now.”

            L picked up the two items and placed them in his knapsack under the seat. His movements were slow; he felt like his limbs were submerged. “Thanks,” he murmured, not looking at his companion.

            Near nodded, his attention focused on his action figures. The engines hummed steadily somewhere under the bus. London began to melt away around them.

            “I don’t have a destination after Edinburgh,” L confessed. “It was just the first bus with an open seat.”

            “Do you want to go somewhere after Edinburgh?” Near’s eyes met L’s for the slightest hint of a moment. “Now that we’re going, we may as well make a trip of it.”

            “Not really. I just… needed to leave.” He pressed his forehead against the glass again. “Does that make me weak?”

            Near took his hand after a moment. He placed one of the action figures into it, closing L’s fingers around the toy. L looked at it, shifting its weight across his palm. It was dressed in orange, and held a plastic rifle in its plastic hand.

            “That depends. I think you’re only weak if you decide not to come back.”

 

* * *

 

 

To: [n@wammys.co.uk](mailto:n@wammys.co.uk)

From: [quillsh@wammys.co.uk](mailto:quillsh@wammys.co.uk)

Subject: re: found him

 

Near,

 

Thank you for your hard work in locating L. While I am hesitant to allow you to wander so far from the home, I understand the importance of finding L and making sure he is safe. I hope that wherever you are, you will remain out of harm’s way.

 

I deeply regret the events of last evening. A was a tremendous asset to our endeavors, and he will be sorely missed.

 

I’ve talked it over with Roger, and we’ve decided not to freeze L’s bank account for the time being. Please take as long as you need. We’ve deposited some extra money; you will not want for anything. Just make sure that L is safe.

 

I trust you, Near. Bring our boy home.

 

W

 

* * *

 

 

To: [quillsh@wammys.co.uk](mailto:quillsh@wammys.co.uk)

From: [n@wammys.co.uk](mailto:n@wammys.co.uk)

Subject: re: re: found him

 

Mr. Wammy,

 

Forgive me for saying this, but I do believe that attitude is why A killed himself to begin with. He was not an “asset,” nor was he a tool to be utilized for your benefit. He was a human being and I hope you’ll have the decency to remember him as such.

 

I’m beginning to understand why L wanted to get away so badly.

 

Near


	2. Chapter 2

            The bus pulled into the station just after sundown. Near had dozed off, his head pillowed against L’s arm. The older boy didn’t have the heart to wake him, so he donned his knapsack and lifted the child. Near instinctively wrapped his arms around L’s shoulders. They disembarked, sodium street lamps dying their skin yellow. L managed to hail a cab with one hand, and a few minutes later, they pulled up to a large apartment complex.

            Near’s eyelids fluttered open as L lifted him out of the cab. He yawned.

            “Where are we?” he asked.

            “My flat,” L responded. Without setting the boy down, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a single key, dangling it precariously between two fingers.

            “You have a flat?” Near asked dubiously.

            “Watari leases me a flat in almost every major city. Of course, there are a few he doesn’t know about.” The key turned in the lock with a click, and they entered. The place wasn’t much – a single room adjoined to a kitchen and restroom – but it was clean, and there was a pull-out futon to sleep on.

            L set Near down on the futon. “Go back to sleep,” he told the boy.

            “What about you?”

            “I’m going to shower.”

            “All right.” Near ran his hand along the coarse fabric of the futon. “I’ll be here.”

            L nodded and retreated to the bathroom. He turned on the tap, undressed, and stepped into the old tub. A few of the porcelain tiles lining the wall were cracked.

            He let the water soak through his hair, feeling it cascade down onto his cheeks and shoulders. There was a loofah hanging from the faucet, and he took it into his hand, scrubbing away at his chest. A’s blood still soaked into his skin, haunting him. He scrubbed harder. His eyes stung.

            Later, he woke up curled into a ball in the bathtub. He couldn't remember lying down. Near’s soft, tiny hand stroked his bare shoulder.

            “L,” Near whispered. “L, you have to come to bed. I can’t carry you.”

            “Hng,” L groaned. He sat up slowly. His hair was damp, but not wet. He began to hoist himself out of the tub. “Okay,” he muttered.

            “You’re bleeding,” Near commented.

            L looked down at himself. His chest was razed, the skin worn completely through in a few spots. “So it appears,” he conceded.

            Near sighed. “Do you have any bandages?”

            “Probably. Maybe.”

            “All right.” He held still as L steadied himself on his shoulder. “Go sit down on the futon. I’ll find some.”

            L stumbled out of the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the back of the door and covering himself with it. He made it to the futon and sat heavily. The sound of Near rummaging through his cabinets drifted around him.

            Why was he like this? He looked up at the ceiling. He was smart enough to know that A’s death was his fault, but not smart enough to have stopped it. He held his eyes open until they watered, then finally allowed himself to blink.

            Near would be the same, he knew. So would Mello. These boys allowed themselves to be molded into the image of someone they could not live up to. It was no wonder A had killed himself.

            “Hey,” Near’s voice whipped him back into reality. “Look at me.”

            L lowered his gaze to the child in front of him. “Hm?”

            “I got a bandage. Sit up and hold still.”

            L complied. Near wrapped a long stretch of cloth around his chest, again and again and again. It stung.

            “Why did you do that?” the boy asked. The question was not malicious – he was simply curious.

            “I’m not sure yet. Ask me again tomorrow.” It was the most honest answer he could give.

            “All right. Are you going to go to sleep now?”

            “Is there anything else to do?”

            “Not tonight.”

            “Then I guess I will.”

            L laid down on his side, not bothering to pull the futon out into an actual bed. Near cozied up to him, snuffling up against his shoulder. Within moments, both of the orphans were asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

To: [quillsh@wammys.co.uk](mailto:quillsh@wammys.co.uk)

From: [n@wammys.co.uk](mailto:n@wammys.co.uk)

Subject: still fine

 

Mr. Wammy,

 

I apologize for my last email. It was influenced by emotions which I should be able to control. Please disregard it.

 

Things are quiet here. There is a café at our hotel, and L took me there for breakfast this morning. He didn’t eat, but he made sure I was fed. I plan to give him until breakfast tomorrow. If he doesn’t eat before then, I will make sure to feed him myself.

 

He’s been very quiet, which is interesting. He hasn’t cried or grieved for A in any way that I’ve been able to observe – though I imagine it’s still a bit early for that. He may still be in shock. Am I correct in assuming that he witnessed the suicide firsthand? He will not speak about it, so I have to guess.

 

I hope this email finds you well,

 

Near

 

* * *

 

 

To: [n@wammys.co.uk](mailto:n@wammys.co.uk)

From: [quillsh@wammys.co.uk](mailto:quillsh@wammys.co.uk)

Subject: re: still fine

 

Near,

 

Thank you for your update. I am glad to hear that you are watching over L with such diligence. I imagine that he will be too stubborn to eat on any sort of schedule, but you doubtless already knew that. Is he sleeping?

 

If at all possible, try to obtain a vitamin supplement for him, especially vitamin B.

 

Best,

 

W

 

P.S. I am sorry for my poor choice of words in my previous email. Of course A was important. His memory will be honored at a funerary service this coming week, which you both are obviously invited to.

 

* * *

 

            “I told Watari we are staying at a hotel. It should buy us at least a few days,” Near remarked around a mouthful of chocolate croissant.

            “You know they can track us via email,” L chided with a frown.

            “No more easily than they can track us from the _single_ alias you used to purchase a _single_ bus ticket.”

            L frowned and picked at his breakfast.

            “Still not eating?” his companion asked.

            “Still not hungry.”

            “You really have to eat, you know.”

            “Who cares?” the detective replied glumly. “All I ever eat are sweets anyway. I’ll be dead in seven years at the outside.”

            “You _do_ realize how easy it would be to kick that habit, don’t you?” Near chewed his croissant, washing it down with a healthy gulp of orange juice.

            “People with higher IQ’s are far more likely to develop an addiction than people of lower intelligence.”

            “So?”

            “It could have been alcohol.”

            The boy chose not to comment on that. “So why did you do it?” He asked conversationally around another mouthful.

            “Why did I do what?”

            “Why did you scrape up your chest with a loofah? You told me to ask you tomorrow. Now it’s tomorrow.”

            L grimaced. It sounded even more pointless when it was said aloud. He gathered himself, scratching at the back of his neck.

            “His blood. It got on me, when he. You know.” He cleared his throat. “I needed to wash it off.”

            “I see,” Near said to the table. “You really are broken, aren’t you?”


End file.
